The Actress and the Aristocrat by Katie Ashley
Chapter Six: Charlie
All I’m asking is for you to play a part. Rand’s words echoed through my rattled mind. The way he said it made the undertaking sound so easy. I would simply be doing what I was accustomed to in my profession in order to pretend to be his girlfriend. Easy peasey, right?
So why did I feel like I had entered The Twilight Zone? A reel of the day’s events flashed through my mind. Cas and Serena’s naked fuckery. The vase hurling through the air at Cas and smashing against the wall. Me coming clean to Earl Whittingham. His outlandish proposition.
Right. That’s why I was tripping.
“Charlotte?” Earl Whittingham questioned.
My mouth struggled to form the words my brain was thinking. After a few moments of struggling, I replied, “I think I need to sit down.”
Earl Whittingham motioned to one of the chairs. After I plopped down in one of them, he asked, “May I get you some water?”
“Considering the day I’ve had and the proposition you’ve made, make it something stronger.”
“As you wish.”
As my legs bounced with the nervous energy coursing through me, I buried my head in my hands. Holy shit. This was insanity. Earl Whittingham wanted me to pretend to be his girlfriend. To pretend to be…in love with him? Oh God, how was it remotely possible.
Earl Whittingham returned with an amply poured glass of what I imagined was whiskey. “Thank you,” I murmured. After throwing back a gulp of the amber-colored liquid, fiery pain shot down my chest. “Holy shit, that’s strong.”
The Earl had the audacity to chuckle at me. “Lagavulin. It’s the best.”
I snort escaped my lips. “Why am I not surprised you and Ron Swanson prefer the same whiskey?”
“Who?”
Waving my hand dismissively, I replied, “Nothing. Just a TV reference from back home.”
“I see.”
After taking another gulp of whiskey, I stared up at Rand. “We’re really doing this?”
“As I see it, we’re entering into a mutually beneficial undertaking. I am committed to seeing it through. Aren’t you?”
“Yes. But it’s easier for me considering I play pretend for a living where you do not.”
“Like I said before, I’m sure we can iron out everything in due course.”
“What I mean is can you actually pretend to be in love with me?”
“I’m sure I can rise to the occasion.” Hmm, many men have boasted about that. When I was just about to make a crack about him rising to the occasion, he added, “I am British, you know. The whole ‘keep calm and carry on’ sort of thing.”
Er . . . so he wasn’t talking literally there. Still I couldn’t resist adding, “Like Queen Victoria’s old adage of ‘close your eyes and think of England’?”
“Well, uh, I don’t think we’ll be taking it that far.”
I found his mortification endearing. “For a moment, I thought you might be being a little cheeky.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Pity,” I teased.
“There’s a lot to me you don’t about and being cheeky isn’t it.”
“I assume I’m about to find out a lot about you.”
“So it would seem.”
When the enormity once again hit me at what we were about to do, I slowly shook my head back and forth. “I must be absolutely batshit crazy.”
“I’m pretty sure you surpassed that mark when you flung a priceless antique vase at an utter tosser.”
A bark of a laugh escaped my lips. “Maybe you aren’t as uptight as I thought you were.”
He cleared his throat. “Speaking of knowing each other, I suppose that it’s too late to be asking, but do you have any film related or personal commitments that might keep you from undertaking this assignment?”
“No. I don’t start my next project until August.”
“That’s perfect since most of the events I’ve always attended are from May to August.”
“But we’re in May now.”
“How much preparation time do you think you’ll need?”
“I don’t know. You’re the director of this crazy scheme, so you tell me.”
“You’re a talented and capable young woman, Ms. Monroe. I can’t imagine it will take long to acquaint you with what to expect at each event.”
“It’s not just learning the rules of decorum. We’re talking about changing me into an entirely different person.”
“But I don’t want you to be someone else—I just want you to look like someone else.” With an earnest look, he added, “You’re fine just as you are.”
“Gee thanks.”
His brows furrowed. “Did I say something wrong?”
Way to be a bitch, Charlie. The man is trying his clueless best. “No. You didn’t. I’m sorry. I’m just overwhelmed and taking it out on you.”
I almost tumbled out of my chair when Earl Whittingham knelt down beside me. “Rand. Call me Rand, Charlotte. And for better or worse, we’re in this together.”
Maybe it was the determined look in his eyes or maybe it was the closeness of his finely chiseled body, but my spirits started to lift somewhat. Nodding, I said, “Let’s do this.”
At precisely sevenon the dot, I snuck out a side door of the London hotel where the cast and crew had been staying at. I then ducked into the waiting chauffeur-driven car. All my belongings had already been sent to the estate in a different car. With all the subterfuge, I was wondering if Earl Whittingham had a background with MI6.
It felt somewhat illicit the way I was being snuck back into the main house. After we’d finished our discussion, I’d left Rand in his study and hurried to catch one of the studio’s cars back to London. We thought it would be less conspicuous if I were to carry on as if nothing had changed. I’d even had dinner with some crew to keep up appearances. I was on a roll when I turned down an offer for breakfast on the pretense I was leaving on an early morning flight back home.
At the sight of the house’s gates, Bertie threw a glance at me over his shoulder. “His lordship suggested you might lie down across the backseat in order not to be seen.”
I nearly laughed out loud at that comment. I bet Bertie had never said that in his life before. “Right. Okay.” I quickly ducked down and then stretched out to lie across the backseat. Even though my heart was beating out of my chest, it was seriously thrilling. Like I was a teenager and sneaking out…or I guess I should say sneaking back in.
“All right, Miss. We’re here.” When I rose up, I found myself at an entrance I’d never seen before.
“Where are we?”
“This is the family’s private entrance.”
Gazing out the window, I couldn’t help thinking how much it reminded me of the downstairs staff entrance on Downton Abbey. It made sense it had been kept private to the cast and crew.
Before Bertie could exit the car, my door flung open. When I saw Rand standing before me, I gasped in surprise.
“Hello again,” he said pleasantly.
“Um, hi.”
Instead of stepping aside to let me exit the car, he held out his hand. The somewhat archaic, but incredibly romantic gesture sent my heart fluttering. I couldn’t help noticing how large his hand was. My gaze then dipped down to his shoes, which were incredibly large. Hmm, I wonder if his—
“Ms. Monroe?” Rand questioned.
Warmth flooded my cheeks. “Um, sorry.” After slipping my hand into his, he pulled me from the seat. As soon as I was standing on my own, he let go of my hand.
As we made our way up the pathway, he turned to me. “Are you hungry? I can have dinner sent up to you.”
“Actually, I ate dinner with some of the crew to keep up appearances.”
“Good thinking.”
After a long hallway, we entered the kitchen. Motioning around us, he said, “Well, should you get hungry or need something to drink, don’t hesitate to get anything you require.”
“Thank you.”
When he gestured to the staircase, surprise once again flooded me that he was going to show me, rather than having one of the staff. It was then that a curious thought popped into my head. As we started up a back staircase I’d never seen, I asked, “Does anyone know about me?” When Rand glanced back at me, I added, “I mean, do they know about our arrangement?”
“Only those who are the closest to me like Mrs. Shaw and Maude. With the filming ending and the house tours not officially starting back up until next month, I sent the others on leave.”
I winced. “So, I’m going to be the cause of some people going without pay?”
We reached a landing, and Rand whirled around. “Absolutely not. They’re receiving paid leave.”
“Oh,” I murmured. “That’s very nice of you.”
Rand chuckled. “Don’t let the compliment pain you so much.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not pained by complimenting you.”
He turned back and started up the next flight of stairs. “It seemed that way.”
“I think what you’re doing for them and for me is very generous.” I stared pointedly at the back of his head. “See? There’s another one.”
“I don’t think my accountant will share your enthusiasm for my generosity.”
“I can’t say I would blame him. You have to be paying a pretty penny for this entire charade.”
We reached the top of the stairs, and Rand turned to me with a smile. “Now, now, don’t sell yourself short. You’re worth every penny.”
“Although I know what you were going for, that statement could be construed as a bit hookerish,” I replied as we started down the hallway.
After sucking in a harsh breath, Rand’s face turned maroon. I bit back a laugh as it was quite comical. “My apologies, Ms. Monroe.”
“It’s okay. I really didn’t take it badly, I swear.”
“I would hope not.”
Sensing we needed a subject change, Rand cleared his throat before pointing to a massive tapestry that spanned most of the wall. “Should I feel the need, that alone would more than provide the backup for what I’m planning to spend for our endeavor.”
I stared critically at the tapestry. It looked like something you might see at one of the flea markets back home. “That is worth a lot of money?”
“It’s an early 18th century Gobelins Tapestry.”
“And?”
“They sell at auction for a quarter of a million pounds.”
My mouth dropped to my knees. “You’re kidding me.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Christ on a cracker. I can’t believe you have a half a million dollars just hanging on your wall.”
“There’s pricier pieces in the gallery.”
I wrinkled my nose at the tapestry. “I sure hope they’re better looking than that. Why I’ve seen some of the same kind of things at Foxy Fleas.”
Rand’s brows creased. “Foxy Fleas?”
“Oh, it’s this discount market back home.”
“If there’s a Gobelins Tapestry there, then someone needs to snatch it up quickly.”
“I’m sure it isn’t—it just looks similar.”
With a nod, Rand continued down the hallway. “Originally, I thought of putting you in the guest wing, but I felt it would be better to keep you in the family quarters.”
Smirking, I replied, “Better to keep a close eye on your investment, eh?”
Rand grunted before throwing a glance at me over his shoulder. “Is that what you think you are to me? An investment?”
“In more ways than one. I’m the means to pay a literal and figurative debt, am I not? Not to mention you just alluded to how I was worth every penny.”
“You certainly continue to harbor a poor opinion of me if you’d ever consider I would think that,” he murmured before stalking off.
Chewing my lip, I caught up to his long strides. At the drooping of his shoulders, I realized that I’d truly wounded him. Although he could be a beast, I didn’t want to bring undue pain to him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Without looking at me, he replied, “You seem to have a knack for saying things you shouldn’t.”
“I swear I don’t always let my mouth run away from me.”
“Then I must bring out the worst in you?” he challenged.
“While I’ve never been a shrinking violet, I must confess there is something about you.”
Rand stopped abruptly, which caused me to bump against his back. “Oomph,” I muttered before I started to sway backwards. My clumsiness immediately made me regret the two glasses of wine at dinner.
After whirling around, Rand grabbed me by the shoulders to steady me. Once again, I was reminded of the size of his large hands as they pressed against the bare skin exposed by my sundress. “Are you okay?”
“I might’ve had a little too much wine at dinner,” I admitted.
The corners of his lips quirked up. “A little liquid courage for what you were about to undertake?”
“Precisely.”
“Come on. Let’s get you to bed so you can sleep it off.” He then dared to wink at me before adding, “You Americans can’t hold your liquor.”
“Har, har,” I muttered, but I couldn’t help smiling. I liked this playful side of him. It made me feel more at ease that I would be able to pretend to be in love with him. It also made me see the man others had gotten to know when we were filming at Sutherlin House. He’d seemed friendly. Not ass-ish. Or with my new role to play, I suppose I should say arse-ish.
After taking a few more steps, Rand announced, “Here we are.” He opened an ornately covered door and then motioned me inside. I brushed past him and flicked on the light. “Wow,” I murmured as light glittered off the crystal chandelier. If I’d thought one of the guest suites we’d filmed in was posh, this was an entirely different level.
At Rand’s voice behind me, I jumped. “I hope you will find this to your satisfaction.”
“Oh, I think it far exceeds my satisfaction,” I murmured as I took in the deep reds and lush creams of the décor.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Motioning to an end table, Rand said, “If you need anything, my number is programmed into the phone as well as Mrs. Shaw’s.”
There was no way I was calling the Silver General. I was still a little frightened of her. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
He bobbed his head. “Then I’ll leave you to get settled in.”
“Thank you.”
“Well, good night then.”
“Goodnight.”
As soon as the door closed behind Rand, I collapsed down onto the plush sofa. “Holy fucking shit, what a day!”